Chapter 5 The Distance Between Us

The London sky was gray when Serena landed. Not stormy but overcast. The kind of sky that pressed on you like silence in a room too big to fill. The jetlag gnawed at her temples, but she refused to let it show. There were meetings to lead, presentations to give, and a name to protect. Hers.

And yet, none of it felt like hers anymore.

The city loomed outside the tinted windows of the Rothschild car that picked her up at Heathrow. Glass towers and old cathedrals blended together in a jagged skyline. She barely looked up. Her mind was still in Detroit. Still on a rooftop with Alexander. Still in his arms.

Still wondering why, after that night, he hadn't called, not even for once.

********************

Back in Detroit, Alexander sat in a conference room on the 38th floor of Ford HQ, staring at numbers that refused to mean anything.

"Alex? Are you with us?"

He blinked. One of the directors was waiting for an answer. Someone had asked about vendor contract flexibility for international campaigns.

"Yes," he said, too quickly. "Let's circle back to that with the procurement report."

They moved on. But the tension remained.

Everyone in the room felt his distraction but no one said it.

Though he knew they were wondering.

He was wondering, too.

Why didn't he stopped her?

Why didn't he told her the truth when he had the chance?

***************

London was cold in the way only a city with secrets could be. Serena wore it like armor structured blazers, high collars, red lipstick sharper than her words. The Ford Europe team was efficient but impersonal. Rothschild's people were worse: polished, smiling, watching.

Damien was everywhere.

At the morning briefings. At the dinners. At her side.

She hated how easily he made it look like they were together.

Like it was inevitable.

"Tell me, Serena," he asked over wine on the the third night, "do you ever miss being a mystery to someone?"

She sipped calmly. "Only to people who deserve the full story."

He laughed. "You know, I think I'm falling for your sharp edges."

"I'd be careful. Some of them cut deep."

He leaned in. "So do mine."

And still, she didn't flinch.

But later, alone in her hotel room, she read the last text Alex had sent and wondered why there hadn't been another.

****************

Alexander stood in his father's private office that weekend, staring at an old photograph of his grandfather beside Henry Ford II. A legacy built on steel and ambition. A legacy now held together with silence.

"He's not calling you, is he?" his father asked from the doorway.

Alex turned slowly. "She deserves better than this."

William walked in, poured a drink. "Then give her the truth."

"She'll never forgive me."

"Maybe not. But at least you'll have done something real. That's more than most of us can say."

Alexander didn't answer.

He already knew what he had to do.

He just didn't know if he was brave enough to do it.

********************

Serena stood in front of a mirror the night before the Rothschild-Ford gala in London, dressed in black velvet. She looked like a queen, elegant and powerful but she didn't feel like one because all she could think about was a man who wasn't there.

And the way he had looked at her, as if she were the only truth he had left.

She closed her eyes and whispered his name.

*******************

The gala was held at a converted art museum overlooking the Thames. A blend of old world charm and cutting edge design, exactly the image Rothschild wanted to project. Damien wore a bespoke tuxedo with ease. His smile was the most convincing lie of all.

Serena played her part perfectly.

She smiled, toasted, gave brief but brilliant comments about the EV initiative's projected impact across Western Europe. Executives leaned in. Journalists took notes. Cameras flashed.

And through it all, she felt like she was watching herself from somewhere far away.

When the speeches ended, Damien found her again, wine in hand. "They're eating out of your hand," he said.

"Not everyone's full of wine and flattery," she replied.

He studied her face. "Is this really about business, Serena? Or are you still looking for a ghost?"

She didn't answer. Didn't have to.

He smirked. "You know, he's not coming. If he cared, he'd be here."

And then she saw him across the room at the edge of the crowd wearing a dark suit, no tie with his eyes only on her.

"Alexander!" Serena screamed and got up surprised as her heart stopped for a second.

Damien followed her gaze, stiffened.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

But she was already moving toward Alex.

****************"

They met in the quiet alcove beneath the staircase, out of sight.

She reached him first as she hugged him tightly.

"You came," she whispered still hugging him.

He looked wrecked, Sleepless but still handsome.

"I had to."

And then she slapped him hard.

The sound echoed off marble.

"You said you'd call," she hissed.

"I know."

"You kissed me, Alex. You made me trust you. And then you vanished."

"I didn't know what to say."

Her eyes searched his face. "You could've said anything. Anything but silence."

He looked down. "I was afraid."

She paused. "Of what?"

"Of losing you before I even had the chance to tell you what I really feel."

The breath between them was taut and fragile.

"Say it now," she whispered.

"I love you Serena," he said. "I haven't stopped thinking about you. I came here because I couldn't stay away. Because every moment without you made me feel like I was drowning."

Serena blinked rapidly.

"Why does it feel like you're still hiding something?"

Alex didn't answer.

Not yet.

Because the truth still wasn't ready.

Not tonight.

She stepped back. "I don't know what this is. Or where we go from here. But I'm not ready to walk away either."

They left together after that. Not in a flurry of passion, but with a kind of fragile gravity that pulled them into the same orbit once more. They walked quietly, shoulder to shoulder, neither saying what still hovered between them.

At the edge of the Thames, Serena stopped. The city glowed across the water, timeless and cruel.

"Why does everything that feels good have to come with consequences?" she asked.

"Because if it didn't, we'd never know if it mattered."

She tilted her head. "That sounds like something someone trying to justify a mistake would say."

Alex gave a slow smile. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just trying not to lose the only thing that's made sense to me in years."

The wind picked up. She shivered, and without thinking, he shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

She looked at him. "I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I."

They stood like that for a long while. The distance that had stretched oceans wide just days ago now barely a breath.

And yet, still so much unsaid.